


and your astral smile

by Eastling (Annwyd)



Category: Black Widow (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Consensual Kink, Consent, F/M, Kink Negotiation, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 02:30:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3633348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annwyd/pseuds/Eastling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If you're going to look at me that way during sex, you might as well let me dominate you."</p>
<p>In other words, Natasha has a suggestion for Bucky. Carrying it out might be an adventure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and your astral smile

Over breakfast one morning, she said to him, "If you're going to look at me that way during sex, you might as well let me dominate you."

He managed not to choke on his cereal. "What?"

Natasha set down her spoon. "Don't tell me you don't know what I'm saying, James. You're not an innocent about sex."

"I grew up on a military base," he agreed. "I know every dirty joke."

She raised an eyebrow. "But?"

He stared down into his bowl before glancing back up at her. "I don't know a whole lot about the things two people who love each other can do in a relationship," he said.

She studied him thoughtfully. "Do you want to learn?"

"I don't mind learning anything with you," he said.

She smiled. "I'd have to learn too. But I think I'd like to."

"What did you mean, 'look at you that way'?" Bucky asked.

Her smile grew more contemplative. "When we're in bed together, you look at me like I could do anything to you," she said. "And you'd probably thank me." She reached across the table with one hand to touch his cheek. "I enjoy that."

He had to remember to breathe, but she just laughed delightedly at his reaction. For his part, he enjoyed that.

* * *

"The internet is an amazing resource," Natasha said to him the next night as she hung up her coat.

Bucky looked up from where he was putting away the dishes. "Yeah, it's great if you want a load of inaccurate garbage and wild speculation."

She had a plain folder in one hand. "Don't be so cynical, James. You can learn how to find good information there if you practice. It's like any other skill."

"I have a lot of skills," he said, "but I'm a little behind the times for that one. What've you got?"

She thumbed open the folder and took out one paper. "A checklist," she said. "Among other things." She picked a pen up off the nearest table. "We'll do this properly and decide what we're both interested in."

He put the last bowl away and closed the cabinet. "What we're both—? Oh, uh, this is. That thing. For the bedroom."

She clicked her tongue in vague disapproval. "'That thing for the bedroom'? Oh, come on."

"I don't know what to call it," he said. "I know it's got an acronym of some kind, but I forget the letters."

"This is why I did the research," Natasha said. "The term you're looking for is 'BDSM.'" She set down the folder, still holding the one piece of paper, and ticked off the letters on her free hand. "Bondage and discipline, dominance and submission, and sadism and masochism. Some of the sites I visited just called it all 'kink,' though."

"Please tell me you covered your tracks," he said. "Those sites do not need traffic from Avengers headquarters."

She laughed and headed for the couch. "Come here. Let's have a look at this list."

Bucky joined her there and leaned over to start scanning the paper she held. "I don't—what do some of these have to do with sex?"

"It's about sensation and emotion," she said. "I'll give you some of the other things I printed out to read, James. Apparently it's not about sex at all for some people."

"Yeah, but it is for us," he said. "Wouldn't melted wax be hard to clean off the bed?"

She shrugged. "I could make you clean it as part of the scene."

"The what?"

"That's what it's called," she said. "When a couple does something like this. A scene—because it's play-acting." She smiled. "I can't really order you to do anything if you don't want me to. And I don't _want_ to do anything you don't want—that reminds me, we'll need a safeword."

"Okay, I know what _that_ is," he said. "I'm not totally clueless." For now, though, he looked at the list again. "'Weapon play. Guns and knives.' Seriously?"

She closed her eyes for a second. "It's there for completion's sake. I imagine it's for people who just see those things in action flicks and think they're exciting." She opened her eyes, took her pen, and crossed the item in question off the list. "Well, what do _you_ think would be exciting?"

He considered the list again, or he tried to. "Nat..."

"What?"

"When you smile at me like that while talking about ordering me around during sex," he said, "it's distracting as hell."

She ran a finger down the list. "'Verbal commands,' then?"

"Uh," he said. "Yeah, I'm good with that."

She kissed his cheek. "My turn." With a tap of her pen by a category heading on the paper, she said, "Sensation play? That seems obvious. I'd like to make you feel things."

"You do," he said. "What exactly are we talking about, here?" He looked at the list beneath that heading. "What the hell are pinwheels? Oh—claws. That makes more sense. Sure."

She flexed her fingers and grinned. "Yes. I like that one." Taking the pen again, she marked the paper there. "We'll have to talk about where I'm allowed to touch you with them, of course. That can come later." She moved to another category. "What about flogging?"

"That's dangerous if you don't do it right, I know that much," he said. "Hit me in the wrong place and you can mess up internal organs." He glanced away for a second, thinking. "But I'm starting to get the hang of this—that's the point, isn't it? That I trust you to do these things without really hurting me."

She leaned against him. "Well, I knew you were a quick learner, James."

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "Where are we going to get all these things, anyway?"

"There are shops," she said. "I didn't have the time to look them up today, but the next time I have the opportunity...and we can go when we both have a free afternoon."

"That's going to be either fun," he said, "or completely mortifying."

"It's what you make of it," she said. "We'll make it fun." And she smiled again. "Now—let's talk about restraints."

* * *

It wasn't until a couple of weekends later that they got the chance to do the necessary shopping. The sky was grey with clouds and a thin drizzle of rain came down outside, but that was a minor inconvenience. However dull the colors of nature were at the moment, Natasha's eyes were still bright with anticipation, and Bucky thought that shade of blue was more important than the sky.

"Just promise me," he muttered as they approached the store, "that we aren't going to run into anyone we know here."

"How do you know this place wasn't recommended to me by a friend?" she asked.

"If it was," he said, "don't tell me which one."

"You're already guessing," she said as she opened the door. "I'm going to take the list to an employee. Feel free to look around. I'll get you if I need an opinion."

He glanced up at the ceiling as she walked away and spent about a second wondering if he should adhere to propriety or indulge his curiosity. It was actually a little bit less than a second. He had never really cared much about propriety.

Bucky made his way down the nearest aisle, glancing over the products on display. "That one can't fit anywhere," he muttered. "It must be a display piece. And that one's _glass_. No."

There was some kind of display on the far wall; his gaze was caught by the bright colors there. A pair of shiny red and gold handcuffs briefly commanded his attention, but before he could spend too long studying them, he caught sight of something potentially more useful: a plain black flogger.

It wasn't entirely black, he realized after a moment. There was some red on the handle...and it was in a familiar shape. An hourglass—

With a sinking feeling in his gut, he looked at the packaging for the flogger. Then he swallowed hard and lifted his eyes to the bold title above the display stand. _Avengers Assemble—for your pleasure!_

He turned and walked back down the aisle. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Natasha in conversation with an employee. He thought about grabbing her before leaving, but what if she made him explain first? So he just walked out the door, turned around the nearest corner, and leaned heavily against the wall.

A minute or two later, he heard footsteps, and Natasha rounded the same corner and stopped in front of him. "Well," she said, "what was that?"

He gestured. "They had," he began, and then he stopped.

She sighed, though he thought he could still see humor in her eyes. "Some cheap and silly things, I know. It's what sells, James. What did you find?"

He lifted a hand to rub at his face. "You don't want to know."

She tilted her head a little. "It was the Captain America dildos, wasn't it?"

He choked a little. "That's a joke, right?"

"Oh, they're real," she said.

"Shit," he said. He shook his head a little. "I saw the Iron Man handcuffs and that flogger and that was it. That's too weird, Nat."

"Remember what I told you before," she said. "It's playing pretend."

"We're not about that," he said. "Is that crap even legal?"

She tapped a finger to her mouth. "If I know Tony Stark's arrangements," she said, "I suspect the deal is that discreet, limited marketing of those products is allowed so long as a portion of the proceeds are donated to public health programs promoting safe sex. Or something like that."

"Oh," Bucky said. "That's how it works these days, isn't it?"

"People get excited about superheroes," she said. "Kids dress up as us for Halloween. Adults...well." She shrugged. "They'd roleplay superhero and supervillain in the bedroom even without shiny toys." She looked up at him. "Do you want to go back inside, James? We could call this off if you want."

"It's just for sex, though," he said. "Right?" But he shook his head before she could answer him. "I guess it's not that simple. Oh, who cares. Let's get the stuff we need."

She smiled and reached out to take his hand. "It's just for fun," she said. "Like what we're doing. I'm not really in charge of you, either."

"No," he said. "You're my friend."

"Yes." She started for the store again.

"Wait," he said. "One thing. I have to know."

She turned and raised an eyebrow at him.

"The...things you mentioned. The Captain America ones." He looked off to the side, but he caught a glimpse of her slow smile anyway. "Which costume were they based on? Steve's or mine?"

"Oh, the original version is Steve's, of course," she said. "'Gigantic size edition' is yours."

"Wait, _what?_ "

She laughed. " _That_ was a joke, James. It's a generic stars-and-stripes version. I don't think they're allowed to use specific costumes."

"Oh, right," he said. He glanced sidelong at her. "So what do they call it?"

She paused. "Don't say it."

"Okay," he said. "I won't. I'll just leave you wondering what terrible pun I was going to come up with." He pushed the door open again. "Did you pick out what you needed?"

"Almost," she said. "Come help me settle on a collar. I want you to look at the floggers, too. I know we wanted a combination of materials, but I'm not sure about the width." She hesitated for a moment and pursed her lips. "All of this is going to be expensive..."

"Oh, don't worry," he said. "Sex and superheroes both sell, right? We can just auction it all off later. We'll make a fortune."

" _James._ "

"Now _I'm_ joking, Nat."

"Good."

* * *

In their bedroom, the ordinary light from the lamp seemed unusually bright, and the small sounds of Natasha's footsteps as she crossed the room rang out loud and clear in Bucky's ears. He tried to understand it for a moment as he watched her.

She tipped her head to one side as she looked at him. "You're excited," she said. She was almost smiling.

"You'd better hope I am," he said.

"Of course you are," she said. "Come here, James."

He made his way over to her, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. "What?"

She leaned up to kiss him, easy and affectionate. "This will be fun. Anything else you need before I tie you up?"

"I don't think so," he said. He shrugged out of his shirt and dropped it on the floor. "You remember the safeword?"

She rolled her eyes. "'Pancakes.' Yes?"

"Absolute mood ruiner," he said. "I'm pretty sure I won't need it."

Natasha reached a hand up to cup the side of his face. "I'll take care of you," she murmured.

He exhaled an already-shaky breath. "I know."

"You trust me," she said. It wasn't a question.

He answered it anyway. "Completely."

She kissed him again; this time the affection in the gesture bled over easily into desire before she finally pulled away. "I'm going to get the ropes and the rest of the things. They're three feet away on the bed, but I'll walk slowly so you can have the rest of your clothes off by the time I get back to you."

He didn't wait to see whether she meant it. The moment she turned, he stripped out of his pants and underwear and left them on the floor.

She looked up at him as she returned to his side. "Well?" She shifted the equipment she was holding into one hand and pressed the other, palm out and fingers spread, to his chest. "Kneel."

He blinked.

"On your knees, sweetheart," she said.

He rolled his shoulders a little as if that could shake off the sudden prickling along his spine. "Okay." He dropped to one knee and then the other. "Is that good?"

"Not yet," she said. "Stay still."

He spread his legs just a little. Her voice was very warm and pleased and sweet, her eyes aglitter with amusement, and arousal already stirred in him. "Are you—"

"Mmm—no. I'll tell you when you can talk." She rested her free hand atop his head for a moment, then stroked it down his face, slid a finger beneath his chin, and nudged him up to meet her gaze. "Just look at me for now."

He swallowed once and looked at her in silence as she took the plain black collar and unfastened it with a tiny snap. Every movement of her fingers commanded his attention.

She leaned down and fastened the collar again, this time around his throat. His heart jumped up to the same level at the small sensation of cool leather and warm fingers. She lingered there for a moment longer to attach a light metal chain to the ring at the front of the collar, then straightened up again. "Now—no, don't talk yet, just shake your head or nod—does it constrict when I pull on it?"

She pulled on the chain, the gesture short but firm.

They'd tested the collar before, but not when he was wearing it, so the extra safety check was important. He felt the leather band dig just a little bit into his neck, but the material didn't actually tighten. He shook his head.

She gave a small sigh. "Good." She set the chain down for now and shifted the fine black rope so it unspooled in her hands. "Put your arms behind your back. Wrists together."

Her commands were growing short, but there was still a warm calm sweetness in her voice. He kept his eyes on her as he pressed his hands together behind his back, and she crouched a little to lean over him. A second later, he felt the fibers of the rope press against his right wrist, sensed the small pings of pressure transmitted along false nerves on the left. She shifted slightly so that the top of her breasts moved against his face as she breathed. She was still fully dressed, but he had to struggle to remember to breathe anyway.

The rope tightened around his wrists. She worked easily at the knots, taking her time, pausing every few seconds to kiss the top of his head or the tip of one ear.

He bit back a small moan. It was too early in all of this for that.

She sensed it anyway, and as she finished the last knot she nuzzled into his hair and murmured, "I said no talking, but I don't mind if you make other noises, you know."

He exhaled roughly, his breathing terribly uneven, as she stood up, picking the end of the chain up again as she did so.

She tugged it lightly to keep his head up. It wasn't really necessary; he was already watching her intently. "I think," she said, "it's time for my clothes to go." She started to reach for the bottom of her shirt, then stopped. Natasha smiled. "You're pretty into this already...all right." She pulled her shirt over her head with one hand and unbuttoned her pants with the other, still holding the chain. "I'll hurry." And with a bit of a shrug, she managed to pull the shirt the rest of the way off. Then she stepped out of her pants.

He had to close his eyes for just a second. Erratic chills sparked up and down his back.

"No, James," she said. Another tug at the chain. "Keep looking."

He opened his eyes again in time to see her unfasten her bra and let it fall to the floor at her feet. A faint moan finally did escape him.

She laughed; the sound was unabashedly cheerful. "Already?" She considered, glancing down between his legs. "Really. You're too easy." Still holding onto the chain with one hand, she hooked the fingers of the other into her underwear and pulled it down her hips—slowly, slowly, shifting from side to side as she shed the last of her clothes. "There. I'll let you talk now."

He swallowed again and felt his throat move against the collar, which set off a fresh urge to shiver. He restrained himself somehow and merely said, "You're more beautiful than ever." It wasn't a lie. She was breathing a little quickly herself despite the rest of her composure, and the small motions of her breasts and belly completely arrested his gaze.

She smiled again as she looked down at him. "You're very handsome like this, too." Her hair spilled over her shoulders and lay like molten metal across her breasts; it might burn him if he got too close, he thought. Everything about her might burn him, he thought, but he wanted it to.

She took a small step closer and gave another gentle pull on the chain—not a tug this time, but a smooth motion of guidance. He followed it, taking signals from the pull and the slack, until his forehead rested against her stomach. She knelt herself for a moment and reached for something on the floor, kissing him briefly as a distraction—

He knew it was a distraction. Still, he finally did shiver when he looked up at her again as she stood and saw the flogger in the hand that wasn't holding the chain.

She lightly fingered the falls of the flogger, separating out the different materials in her hand—the soft suede and the more stinging leather. Then she let them drop again. "I practiced. I think I have the hang of it, darling." She moved her body against him and gave the chain a little more slack. "Down," she said.

He glanced up at her, his brows lifted.

"This part isn't difficult, James," she said. She gave his head a light tap with the handle of the flogger. "You're good enough at it normally."

He wanted to keep looking at her face, but that wasn't in the cards right now. He dipped his head between her legs, pressing his mouth into the small curls of her hair there, kissing slowly along the line where her thighs joined the rest of her body.

The scent of her swept through him as he inhaled, toppling careful towers of thought and reason inside his head.

"Lower—" She moved her hips, pressing her body to his mouth. She parted against him and suddenly his lips were wet with her.

He cried out again.

"Did you forget you have a tongue?" She made a small impatient noise that might as well have set him on fire. " _Use_ it." She leaned over a little and lightly trailed the lashes of the flogger over his back; it was just a small feathery sensation but he had to struggle not to moan more. "And I'll use this. All right?"

His head hummed with nameless feeling, but he gathered his thoughts just enough to speak into her. "Yeah." He tipped his head back so he could look up at her, even as he traced his tongue over her slick skin. He'd always liked the taste of her, but right now, it was enough to make him tremble.

There was color high on her cheeks, and her eyes were very bright. His thoughts chased each other in a ring like a halo around the image of her face. He opened his mouth more and stroked his tongue over her again.

She curled her fingers around the handle of the flogger, lifted her hand, and flicked her wrist.

The light, slender lashes snapped into his back and bright bursts of stinging pain burned through his body, like tiny brilliant flowers suddenly opening petals at the base of his head.

She cracked the flogger again. Fire found new pathways through the flesh of his back. Again; his body felt like a jigsaw puzzle with the pieces joined only by raw sensation, pain and desire. He found himself gasping raggedly into her flesh, his whole body shaking more like a sheet of foil being rattled than anything human.

The room around them was a little unclear now, but the colors of her body were very bright. Every strand of hair resting against her skin looked like the vein of a leaf in autumn, her lips like the sun on the horizon, her hard nipples embers, her eyes fragments of perfect sky wrapped around tiny bits of night; he was losing the ability to read any of this as part of a person instead of the entire world—

He felt a sudden flash of concern out of nowhere and, faintly, realized he was reading it in the eyes he was staring into.

She lowered the hand holding the leash to rest on his head. "James. Not yet, sweetheart. Stay with me?"

He shuddered a bit, but he felt like he had a little more control over the motion than he had a moment ago. "That's—yeah. That happens. Right?"

"You read the guide I gave you, didn't you? Yes." She laughed a little. "But that didn't take long at all."

He pressed a kiss into her wet skin before him. "Well, it's you, Natalia. And I am easily riled up."

"Then I'll be more careful," she said. "I have _plans_ for this, James." She ruffled his hair. "Okay. Ready?"

"Yeah." He ran his tongue over her again.

She hummed with pleasure and flicked the flogger once more, lightly this time. The pain only made him shiver now instead of destroying his hold on reality. She snapped the lashes over him again, carefully, and again, with more certainty. His tongue moved in familiar paths upon her while unfamiliar sensations of pain and restraint danced on his nerves.

He started to cry out with each crack of the flogger, if only to watch her eyes flash with delight at the noise. Of course, it was getting hard to tell whether her pleasure came from his ragged moans or the movements of his mouth on her, but either way she was beginning to rock her hips against him. He was familiar with that motion; it meant she was about to come, and he took in both the taste and the sight of her ardently as he urged her on, until finally she snapped the lashes one more time, harder than before, against his back, then dropped it to the floor.

And she pulled hard on the chain. " _Faster._ " He obeyed without fully processing the word as language first, only knowing that he needed to satisfy her. "Oh— _ah_ , yes." She curled her free hand around the back of his head and held him firmly against her, and he kept up the motions without fail until her rough shivers finally calmed.

The world around him was too bright when she let go of him and stepped back. He blinked a few times, then licked his lips, still watching her. "Natalia?"

She grinned down at him, her face flushed with excitement and affection. "James. How are you feeling?"

He swallowed a couple of times. "Really... _really_ turned on." He glanced down to confirm what he already knew: he was totally erect, almost painfully so by now.

"Mmm," she said. "One moment. Wait for me." She let go of the leash at last and moved over to the nightstand, where she picked up a last few items. He watched her slide the small thin rings with their delicate pronged talons onto the tips of her fingers. Then she returned to his side and knelt there; she leaned up to kiss his forehead very gently. "Darling..."

She reached down and curled her fingers around his cock. He half-swallowed a moan.

"No holding back," she chided him. She pressed her fingers more firmly against his shaft; he could feel the cool metal of the rings and the warmth of her skin at the same time. The points of the talons didn't quite touch him, but he knew they were there, a hairsbreadth away from his cock.

Natasha paused for just a second, meeting his gaze, trying to read his reaction in his eyes.

He glanced down at the metal points on her fingers, then back up at her face. "I said you could use the claws anywhere and meant it," he muttered, though his breathing was fast and he felt small cool tendrils of fear radiating up through him where the metal bands touched his skin.

"You're afraid," she whispered.

"Like on a rollercoaster with a hell of a drop," he said.

So she wrapped her free arm around him and stroked her thumb over the back of his neck, just above the collar, while pushing with her palm so his head bowed against hers. He gasped against her cheek.

She ran her other thumb slowly down the full length of his cock, and as directed, he didn't hold back his moan this time.

"I'm going to bring you to the bed in a moment," she murmured. "And then I'm going to tell you exactly— _exactly_ what I want you to do for me." She took her hand away from his head to reach down and start untying the knots on his wrists. But her other hand still stroked gently over his cock, the motion gradually growing more firm and fierce.

"Natalia, I'm—"

"Oh, no," she said, undoing the last knot. "You're not going to come yet. I'd be too annoyed. Don't let that happen. Besides—one more thing."

Very delicately, terribly lightly, she touched the points of the talons to his cock.

_There's the drop on the rollercoaster._

He couldn't tell exactly what sound he made then, because at about the same instant his entire brain went up in smoke. He grabbed her waist with his newly freed hands, buried his face in the crook of her neck, and shook against her.

Her soft, charmed laughter was a little breathy. "Oh. Oh, you're so good..." She stroked his hair and kissed the top of his head. "Enough of that for now. On the count of three, we both stand up. One, two, three—"

His legs felt oddly weak, but with her arms around him and his hands on her he managed to get to his feet. He blinked again to clear his vision as she stepped away from him, taking hold of the chain again. She had the flogger in her other hand once more. "You are so... _so_ damn beautiful right now." His mind was something entirely primordial, a stew of helpless lust and pure adoration and raw sensation that needed just one spark to produce something completely new. What was it? He didn't know. He didn't care. He wanted her, that was all.

"I'm enjoying seeing you like this too," she said, smiling again. She pulled a bit on the chain. "Into bed with you."

He stumbled a little. Basic motor skills were suddenly quite daunting. He didn't really feel like one of the best physical fighters on the planet right now, in the same way that a very small kitten wouldn't feel like a sabertooth tiger. Somehow, he made it to the bed, though with every step he thought he might fall off a cliff.

Natasha took him by the shoulders and pushed him down against the pillows. Then she set down the flogger next to his body and leaned over him. She still had the claws on her fingers, and now she ran them over his chest.

He shuddered so hard it was difficult to breathe for a moment.

She tugged at the chain. "Listen to me."

"Okay," he said, blinking once.

"Put your arms up by the top of the bed," she said, reaching over to pick up the rope again—two pieces, this time. "I'm going to tie you up again, and that's going to take a couple minutes, so while I'm at it, why don't you talk to me? But by talk, I mean beg. _Plead_ with me to do more things to you, darling."

His head was an empty white space. Usually it was grey, and the words that played out across it were often tired and grim. Right now it was bright and pale and full of heated unnameable feelings for the woman currently tying him to the posts of the bed. Somehow they became words by the time they reached his mouth. "Mmm—take me. Really soon, Natalia, please just get on top of me and just, get me inside you, I'm going to lose it if you don't."

She tested the knots on his left wrist; he tried to remember why the associated sensation of fibers on his arm didn't feel entirely real and couldn't. "I might," she said lightly, cheerfully.

"And hit me again with that damn flogger, I don't care how hard, no, make it really hard, all right?" It was hard to time his breaths around his words. Telling her this like she'd ordered him to was more important than breathing anyway. "I want to space out completely while I'm inside you, while you're full of me, _please_."

"Maybe," she said serenely as she began to tie his right wrist to the bed. The sensations here were much stronger and he almost forgot to speak for a second as he felt the knots settle firmly against his skin.

"Will you dig those claws into me too?" He let his gaze linger on the rings on her fingers. "I want—really, I really want you to hurt me. Again and again, please, please..."

She shivered. "Time," she said. She pulled back from the ropes and picked up the chain again. "All right, James, I'm going to tell you exactly where to kiss me, and if you do a good job of it, I'll take you..." She stroked his chest once more, the talons pressing faintly into his skin. "It'll be good."

"I know," he said.

She leaned over him, her hair falling to brush his face. "My lips," she said.

He leaned up to kiss her mouth; the ropes went taut against his wrists and desire stirred more in his gut, another wave in the sea.

"Right beneath my chin."

He ducked his head and kissed the soft skin above her throat.

"Lower. Right by my collar bone."

He obeyed again, and he realized he was obeying without a second thought, that he'd forgotten everything but doing what she told him in this moment, and still he knew without a trace of a doubt that she would never abuse or harm him. That she loved him. Something old lodged deep in his chest ached in the same way that healing wounds were supposed to ache.

"The top of my breasts...each one."

His throat was halfway closed up; he didn't understand the feelings turning around and around inside him; still he kissed her as she commanded.

"One more. Bite a little this time. The nipples."

He drew each of her breasts into his mouth, between his teeth, and bit down lightly. She sighed both times, a very pleased sound.

She finally pulled back to kneel by his side at the bed. There she tilted her head a little and watched him thoughtfully, her gaze lingering all over his body.

"Natalia," he said. He could manage her name, if nothing else.

She looked back at his face. "You're pretty far gone..." She picked up the flogger again. "But there's always farther." She traced the light leather lashes over his chest and smiled as he drew a sharp breath. Still with that smile, she lifted the flogger and flicked its lashes sharply against his skin.

He might have gasped, he might have moaned, but he was sure he made _some_ noise, and another when she hit him again. But that sound didn't matter. What mattered was the crack of the lashes against his body, sounding again and again now; it was a tether holding his mind in place.

At last she dropped the flogger next to him. "I don't think you can expect me to wait much longer," she said. She pressed her hand into his chest, the thin claws digging slightly into his skin, and leaned over to kiss him. He leaned up against her, straining at the ropes.

She pulled back and glanced at the bedposts. "If you break any furniture," she said, "you're paying for it."

He relaxed slightly, still trembling, and watched in silence broken only by his rough breathing as she slowly drew her hand on his chest down his body, raking a little harder with the talons as she reached his stomach and lower, until finally she wrapped her fingers around the base of his cock. The metal points almost touched him.

"Natalia," he murmured, "please..." He wasn't sure what he was begging for. Still he trusted her to give it to him.

She swung a leg over his body and straddled him, poising herself over his cock. "Of course," she said. "But it should hurt a little too. Right, darling?" And she shifted her grip on him, pressing the talons into the skin at the base of his cock.

It was a firmer touch than before, though still not very hard, and she varied the pressure second by second—whether deliberately or because excitement made her hand shake, he didn't know. He could barely think that far anyway. There wasn't anything mooring his mind now. His consciousness spun out through some inner space.

With her free hand, she picked up the chain leashing him and gave it a small pull. "Mmm—do I want you to look into my eyes when I'm taking you, or lower? I don't know."

He tried to offer his opinion, but it came out as a rough moan. Words were impossible. It didn't matter. She would decide and that would be good.

"You usually watch my face when you enter me," she said. "I notice these things...it's sweet, but tonight is different." She shifted her pull on the chain to guide him. "Look down."

Immediately he let his gaze fall to where she held him, her fingers pale against his hard cock, the metal claws pressed lightly into his skin. He could only half feel the pain of it anymore, but still his heart flung itself at his ribs with every beat.

"Now," she said, "you're mine."

She sank down onto him. He watched in dazed silence as the head of his cock disappeared inside her. The slick wet heat of her radiated down his shaft, but she was still holding those talons firmly against the base. Pleasure rolled through pain and gathered it up in a mingled wave to crash over his entire body.

He cried out. He still couldn't find words.

She lowered herself slowly down his cock, until finally, reluctantly, she pulled her hand away so she could take him all the way inside of her. Then she sighed, the sound halfway a moan, and said, "That's enough. You can look at my face again now."

He quickly lifted his eyes to meet hers. They were glittering with pleasure. Her hair was out of place all around her face by now, too. He couldn't have named any other object in the room right then, but he could have said a million things about the color of her hair and eyes.

She leaned down just long enough to pick up the flogger again. "I'd like to finish this," she confessed, "but I'd also like to just rest here on top of you for a long time, looking at you while you're at my mercy...isn't that too bad? But life is making choices, James. Let's go."

With that, she snapped the flogger again, lashing it across his chest; at the very instant it hit, she also rocked her hips upon him.

For a moment, the pain of the lash and the pleasure of their bodies connecting had distinct shapes behind his eyes: the former a straight and narrow red thread, the latter a tangle of warm golden ribbons. Then both of them dissolved into a cascade of orange heat.

She did it again, the flick of her hand and wrist very precise to keep the lashes away from his belly or his face where they might do him harm. This time her voice joined his as they both moaned.

Again. She was calling his name, which was the only reason he remembered it.

Again. His boundaries disappeared, all the compartments inside his head and heart where he kept different expectations and different identities. He didn't need to be anything but hers. She was still calling his name, and he couldn't remember if he'd ever used a different one.

Again, and again, and again, she lashed him and moved her body on him, and he needed nothing else. She hurt him and she pleased him, which made for a balanced world. That meant he didn't need to feel anything but the pain and the bliss all wrapped up in each other. Other emotions detached from him like fleeing lifeboats: worry and fear, regret, frustration, guilt. He could do just fine without them.

He came at some point, but he only fully registered that it had happened when she lay down the flogger, leaned over him, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and began to kiss his face. The plain mechanics of sex no longer mattered, only that he was safe in her arms.

Conscious awareness bid him farewell, but Natasha stayed.

* * *

When he could understand words again, the first ones he heard were hers. She was still lying sprawled on top of him, her cheek pressed to his temple. She was murmuring his name into his ear. "James. James, come back to me. It's all right, darling, you were good, you were _so_ good. I love you. I love you so much. I'm so lucky, sweetheart, you were so good. I had so much fun with you."

He remembered, first, the normal rhythms of breathing. He couldn't feel pain yet, though. He opened his mouth to speak her name too, but he forgot how to shape the word.

She continued to speak warm endearments to him for another minute before finally sighing and rolling off him. "All right. I'm going to get some things for you." She'd already taken off the talons and put the flogger aside. "I'm coming back, though. I'll undo the ropes then." He watched her as she stood up from the bed, took a robe out of the closet, and shrugged into it. The satiny fabric was so bright it almost hurt his eyes. She glanced at him one more time. "Be right back. Wait for me."

He couldn't do anything but wait for her. He looked up at the ceiling and thought of nothing at all. Somewhere outside his head, things he'd forgotten began their approach, ready to creep back in. His chest and his back stung faintly. His right wrist hurt from the pressure of the rope. He remembered why his left wrist didn't.

Her footsteps sounded on the carpet once more; the bed shifted slightly as she sat down again. She set some things on the nightstand, then leaned over to start undoing the ropes. "Can you talk yet?"

He tried to think about it, then just shook his head.

His right arm came free of the ropes. She leaned over him to untie his left. "You really got into it," she said. "I loved that, James. Did you have a good time too?"

"Mmm." He nodded.

She finished untying the ropes and put them aside, then reached down to finally unfasten the collar from his throat. "Can you sit up? Here—I'll help you."

With her assistance, Bucky managed to pull himself upright against the headboard of the bed. He heard a small rattling noise and his jaw ached a little; he realized his teeth were chattering. "What—?"

She draped a heavy blanket over his shoulders. "Better?"

"Yeah," he said. "Natalia, you're okay too?"

"I'm fine," she said. She lifted a glass of water to his lips. "Drink."

He fumbled at the glass for a second, then managed to swallow some water.

"More," she said. She kept the glass there, urging him onwards, until he'd had most of the water in it. Then she set it aside and took a bowl off the nightstand. "Open your mouth." He couldn't quite focus on what was in the bowl, but he did what she told him. "Remember to take bites, okay?"

It took him a moment, but he recalled how eating worked. "I—" He swallowed. "What the hell, Nat?"

She blinked and poorly hid her amusement. "What's wrong?"

"Chocolate-covered strawberries," he protested.

"I know," she said. "I'm a romantic. Have another. You made a really cute face when you ate the first one."

"I'm not cute." He let her feed him another strawberry.

"Wrong." She sat next to him, the bowl on her lap. Eventually, she asked, "How are you feeling?"

He thought about it. "Shaky," he said. "It's a good thing I have the morning off tomorrow."

She watched him, her expression serious now. "Anything else?"

He ducked his head a little. "I don't—I don't know how to talk about it."

"You don't have to," she said. "If you don't want to."

He licked his lips a little. "You took care of me," he finally said.

"I still am," she said. "I always will." She touched his cheek. "You do the same for me, James."

He blinked a few times. His eyes felt hot. "Thank you," he said.

"I told you, I enjoyed it too," she said. But the look in her eyes now was a little sheepish. "I don't know how often I could do it, though. It's fun, but it's not really us."

He remembered how to laugh. "No." But he drew the blanket closer around him and leaned on her. "It's okay. We can be a lot of things for a lot of people. No reason we can't be something new for each other once in a while."

She tipped her forehead against his. "You were a treasure tonight," she whispered. "An incredible, precious man who pretended to belong to me even though he's fought so, so hard to belong to himself."

His breath hitched in his throat. He closed his eyes for a second.

"What was I to you tonight, James?"

His right arm still felt weak, his fingers clumsy, so he stroked her hair with his left hand even if that meant he couldn't feel it as much. "You were my savior," he said. "You staked a claim to me and drove away all the bad things that tried to challenge it."

When he opened his eyes, he could see her smile, small and gentle and more sincere than anything else in the world. "I wanted that," she said. "I always wanted that."


End file.
